Get Me Outta Here

Oh, the chatter in my head feels like a crowded subway train in New York City.
Packed in there like sardines.
Suffocating.
Unpleasant.
Rattling down the tracks.
One thought pressed up against the other.
An endless stream.
Can hardly breathe.

I can’t wait to get off at the next station.
I’ll rush up the stairs and hope to find some light waiting there for me.